Badlands
by Nim. L. Blue
Summary: Invader Zim western style. Yeah I know it's weird but oh well.
1. Default Chapter

Invader Zim...western style! Little note, Dib and Gaz are adults at this time, early twenties but I'm keeping them all in character (well the best I can). Oh yeah...any of you who read the Taltos Novels will be happy to see a brief appearance of our favorite assassin, he's not that important to those who haven't read the series though. He's still an interesting character. Lilly appears in this too if you ever read The Quiet One. If you haven't read it just skim over the first few chapters to get an idea of her character.  
  
Dib sat at his regular table near the back window in the smoke filled bar. He watched as the stars appeared one by one in the darkening sky and nodded to his sister Gaz to keep the drinks coming. She had just finished pummeling a customer who had mistaken the waitress as one of the cheep tavern whores that did business upstairs. The manager didn't mind her random beatings of customers, said it kept them in line. Vlad had lost quite a bit of money from rambunctious patrons damaging the place whenever there was a fight but Gaz usually kept the customers in line. That was probably the only reason he hired her, she was a completely capable girl who took care of her self just fine. He didn't worry to much about losing paying customers due to her cold nature and brutal abuse she laid on the customers, Vlad's was the cheapest bar in town and it attracted the lowest forms of scum in town or what ever crap hole they wandered in from. The whole town attracted the shit of America, it made Dib wonder why his family didn't leave the parched lands and go someplace...better. Anywhere in the world was better then this town/. Still they remained as the rest of the world moved on without them.  
There was one thing that made him stay...Zim. He would not be content until the Irken was dead. Then he could leave and find a better life but until then he was stuck in this shit hole with the shit of the universe. Dib had often wondered what had kept the town alive; they were constantly attacked by the Irken gang, raped and robbed of whatever scarce happiness and joy that the town still possessed. They had apparently done the same to the surrounding towns that were now under their control. Dib and Vlad were the only hope that the town had to keep it from falling under the Irken control. Dib had protected the town, often getting horribly injured with scars to show his struggles, out of the goodness of his heart. Vlad, on the other hand, just protected the town to keep his businesses running. There was only one thing to keep Dib going...the cool drinks he threw back to burn his throat night after night. He never got too drunk of course, Gaz made sure of that. Complained of having to carry her brother's drunk ass home. This night even she didn't bother to argue with him and kept the drinks coming while trying to avoid looking at the fresh sling that supported his right arm. Only said to him, "You should've used a gun." Then would walk away back to the other tables.  
The musician played on the old piano that was in a bad need of tuning, and dib sunk into his chair. The alcohol numbed the pain in his arm a bit; he was still going to need some of his dad's drugs to ease it completely for the next few days. Hopefully Zim wouldn't return for a while so he could recover from the new injury. Yeah, maybe he should of used a gun, but he hated them so much. Only once did he ever use one of those filthy things. It was to shoot his old horse that got it's leg broken, curtsies of Zim. He really liked that horse too. The sun was gone now, only a red sky that gave the impression of doom looming overhead. He popped open a fresh beer and gulped it down while thinking of his old horse. Never really was able to afford a new one either. Damn...he really liked that horse.  
Around that time the double doors swung open and the boards creaked. He didn't even bother to look up but could hear Gaz mumble angrily, "You can sit yourself."  
"Geeze Gaz, you can't even recognize your own boss." Vlad said half laughing. He was used to the treatment as anyone who had the privilege of knowing Gaz.  
"Who said I didn't?" She said bluntly before turning her back to tend another round for a table playing poker. Vlad only smiled and shook his head before heading to the Dib's table. No one had the guts to turn their back on Vlad, well at least the ones that had heard of them. Even Dib had been a little cautious after knowing Vlad for so many years. He was top assassin/bounty hunter in the region. Anyone in the know knew his reputation. Dib sometimes looked after things when Vlad would head out for a few weeks to hunt some big bounty or was offered "work". Vlad trusted Dib, which was unusual, but Dib still never quite trusted him. That made Vlad happy for some sick reason. The guy was a smart ass, but you have to be smart to be a smart ass and that was what kept him alive for so long despite the very, very close brushed with death the man had. Dib wondered how he had managed to survive as long as he did. Vlad was as surprised as him. Uninvited he pulled up the chair across from Dib, his purse dangling with the spoils of his lasted "work". He pulled out a few coins and let them fall on the table as his payment for looking over the town the last month. This was only a fraction of the over all fee, Dib also got to keep ten percent of what ever his businesses made during his absence. Dib scooped up the coins, just about to put them in his own purse, then laid them back on the table.  
"It's been a long day. I think I'll spend it tonight." Dib said flatly.  
"That's why you haven't been able to buy a new horse." Vlad replied with a bit of annoyance in his voice. Vlad's companion suddenly swooped in from outside on leathery wings and landed on his master's shoulder. His name was Lorish, Vlad called him a Jerege but Dib always thought it looked like a tiny dragon. He didn't know where Vlad got it, or how it was able to exist but he had seen stranger things and never asked about it. What Dib did know about it was that it's venom was worse then a rattle snake's and it held some sort of mental link with it's master which allowed it to speak to him silently. It was weird but still, he had seen stranger things. Vlad raised his hand for a shot of brandy and salted steak that was no longer good to sell to customers without saying a word. Gaz brought the usual and Lorish began to gobble down the meat greedily while Vlad held his tiny glass without drinking it. He looked down at Dib's arm and without saying anything, asked how it happened. Dib looked out the window, to dark to see anything outside but his own worn reflection stared back at him.  
"Zim." Was all he said.  
"Well then, I've got some interesting news you might want to hear." Vlad said with a sarcastic smile that Dib wanted to smack off his face. To bad he couldn't move his good arm. "It's about Zim." Dib's eyes perked up with interest. "It's seems that today the leaders of the Irkens, you know the Tallest, kicked him out after he failed to capture the town." A great big smile came across Dib's face. The assassin continued. "Apparently he had been causing the Tallest a great deal of trouble, a lot more then he was worth. I'm surprised that they just didn't kill the moron. It's been like that for years. I thought that might brighten you day. So there I said it. Now for the bad news." Dib's smile fell. "He had been trying to overthrow the Tallest for some time now. The whole thing was just an act supposedly."  
"What! Your fucking kidding me!" Dib almost yelled. Vlad just shook his head. That was Zim's mission, to please the Tallest, to blindly obey them even if it meant self-sacrifice. "I don't believe you."  
"Believe what you want but I got the information from a very reliable resource in Brams. That was before I found out about this though. You know, I'm thinking about recruiting him...wiping out the Irken scum forever you know. We can finally let this town prosper, let it grow into something fit for living decently. I know you and Zim haven't had the best hist..."  
"NO! No way in hell Vlad. There is no way he's gonna let me alone after all the shit we've been through. I don't want him to let me go, I want him dead. I don't care if he wants to help fight off the Irken scum, he's just probably gonna take the Tallest's place as their leader."  
"Well then we really won't have to worry about the Irkens anymore." Vlad interrupted smugly.  
"You don't get it, I won't have anything to do with it! I won't let you, kill me if you have to. I'd rather be dead then let Zim be in charge of protecting my hometown. even if this place is a shit hole!" Dib's face began to grow red with anger.  
Vlad smiled, "True, he still wants you dead as well. You know...I really don't mind the little green guy. He makes me laugh."  
Dib could hear Gaz giggling behind him. She loved to watch him stress out like this. "How can you say that! He's a complete asshole and main reason why we live in poverty...okay maybe not you but everyone else does...b- but that's not the point! You can't trust him Vlad."  
"I don't. I just thought I would give you the heads up if you see him working here from now on. Chances are slim I'll say that. I don't think he would "lower" himself to be working with humans. Well, I'll call it a night. I'm tired, haven't slept in almost 32 hours." With that the assassin got up and left a generous tip for Gaz without ever touching his brandy. Dib eyed him evilly as he head out the door, Vlad raising his hand dismissing himself and to say his farewells. Dib sighed, Zim wasn't gonna go for it. Like Vlad said, he was too proud to work with lowly humans. The thought made him smile. He studied his features in the window once more, looking at all the premature lines that cracked his face and the dirty looking stubble that shaded his face. His eyes glared back angrily almost concealed under the large brim of his beaten hat. He wasn't trying to look angry, that just how they were. He though back, it didn't seem all that long ago when he was a kid, full of hope and dreams. That was before Zim, now look at him....aged prematurely and always looking like he was about to kill someone. Well...he was. Zim. Dib sat back and took a swig of Vlad's untouched brandy and toiled away his coins for refills. He really did miss that horse.  
  
A/N The beginning was a bit shaky for me but it took me a bit to get started. Vlad was a bit more involved then I wanted but he's such a cool character and I really enjoy writing about him. Dib was a bit OCC for me and I turned him into an alcoholic, I did like Gaz though. Next chappy is from Zim's POV and a bit more western. This chapter they could have been in an airport and it would have had the same effect. 


	2. Zim

Zim sat at the counter at the local saloon in Greensdale, not to far from Vlad's town. Unlike most human prepared food of drink he was able to swallow the drinks down without felling ill. Humans reacted to the drinks in losing coordination and not being able to hold a decent conversation. They were so disgusting...humans. Filthy, filthy humans. The alcohol would start leaking through their pours and make them sink wretchedly, they began to slur and talk about all their menial problems, forgetting that he was an Irken and that Irkens hated their slimy guts more then they could imagine. The drinks on the other hand, reacted very differently to the Irken body. First they would get a little dizzy, then a surge of energy that ran though their bodies like lightning. It was a short little boost but it made Zim feel like a God for a few minutes. He was sick of the stinking man sitting next to him who began to collecting flies around him. He was muttering some non-sense about straggling some tavern whore and her pubic lice. He had been scratching his genital area since he got in. Zim left his tab and left the building disgusted. As he left in involuntarily tipped his hat at a lady Irken passing bye, this town had already been inhabited and taken over by his people. Most of the towns in these parts were. The tallest had thought of killing off the humans at first but found that they were quite useful for heavy labor. As long as they had their bars and their whores, they were happy enough not to rebel, but they complained like a bitch.  
Examples were made of a few who went to far, those who needed to be reminded of their place were branded like cattle. For those who really needed to be taught a lesson, the Tallest would think of horrible ways to seal their fate. One of the favorites was internal burning where they would slit the humans open, several small incisions along the belly, and place red-hot coals in the open wounds.  
Zim called his faithful yet moronic companion, GIR, who was in charge of looking after their horse. Usually Zim wouldn't leave in charge of...anything but the little robot (what's a robot doing in the old west...I don't know but I really couldn't think of an explanation without getting to bizarre so just deal with it.) befriended the horse and wouldn't let anything bad happen to it. The horse on the other hand, well, just wanted to be dead. He was tired of the little robots screaming and poking and the hours and hours of talk about nothing. He didn't know the specie's language but that voice... going on for hours and hours, and he still knew! The horse just knew that GIR's ramblings were pointless, he didn't know his language but the horse knew there was not point to what the little guy said. If he had a hand to hold a gun, he would of killed himself long ago. He did try drowning himself but GIR had knocked the water trough over spilling the precious suffocating liquid and soon soaked into the dusty ground. Just a few more seconds and he would have never have to listen to the pointless babble or suffer the relentless poking again. He was thirsty at the time too.  
The horse was a tiny horse, considered inferior to the other horses. That was until they watched the horse run. He was rumored to be the fastest horse in the west if not the planet. Zim had named the horse Voot. This was unusual considering that the other Irkens named their horses by numbers and codes like V-12 or something along those lines. Perhaps because of his unusual name or his reputation, everyone recognized him and respected him, humans and Irkens alike. Admirers of horses dubbed him the Voot Runner or Voot Cruiser. He was a beautiful black horse with a shimmering mane, to bad Voot never felt any pride for him self and just wanted to die. When he ran though, he felt more alive and free then anything in the world. As much as he hated to admit it, he loved when GIR would sit quietly along Zim and just enjoy the wind. He had seen GIR's reflection once when they rode by a passing lake far away, the smile on GIR's face...it made it all worth it. He was an older horse, which made him somewhat wise and he knew what smiles meant. It was sad that they were scarce in these parts, he never saw much of them anymore. Even from GIR. All the more reason to submerge his muzzle in the cool suffocating liquid.  
Before untying Voot's reins from post, Zim took a quick peek inside one particularly large saddlebag. It didn't weigh much and didn't slow the horse down but it held one of his most prized possessions. A sleeping angel. A tiny Irken child slept soundly in the makeshift bed of hey and cloth, shielded from the sun by the saddlebag cover left ajar for a sufficient amount of air. Unlike the other Irkens, she was pure white. Nothing was pure white in this place other then the sun bleached bones of carcasses littering the landscape. She was and angel, hauntingly blue eyes and perfectly curled antenna and eyelashes, a symbol of innocence in a long corrupted world. Her name was Lilly, named after the tiny bell like flowers, lily of the valley that used to grow down by the river before it dried up into dust years ago. Zim for some reason or another liked those flowers, which wasn't like him at all. He never enjoyed simple things like flowers or sunsets.  
Without stirring the little Irken baby, Zim closed the bag and mounted Voot with the help of his mechanical legs. He didn't worry about the long ride ahead waking Lilly, she was used to his long journeys across the dusty land and the motion didn't stir her a bit. Zim noticed a tumbleweed rolling north out of town. That seemed about right. North. What the hell, maybe he'd finally find away out of this place. Up north there was a rich green land called Colorado, and beyond the mountains there was the chilly pine forests of Canada. Well, that was at least what he had been told by an old man who had accidentally stumbled through the badlands when he was nineteen, and had been trying to escape ever since. Just like all the others that had been born far away.  
Zim smiled, of all the things Dib believed in, of all the things he had seen that others were blind to...he had no idea. Zim kicked Voot gently to motion him forward, he had a lot more time to ride now. Within a few short minutes the town shrank behind them, it was kinda hard to see thorough the dust that Voot had kicked up behind him. Zim knew well enough that the crossroads would appear before him in a few hours and now he could go in whichever direction he pleased now that Tallest had banished him...again. Maybe, just maybe he could escape this time. 


	3. the family

The family.  
  
It was about three in the morning when Gaz kicked in the door dragging Dib in behind her. It had taken her an extra hour dragging Dib's drunken ass all the way home and she was not...happy. She was going to have to kill Val for slipping him drinks behind her back, she cursed herself as well for not paying attention to the signs that Dib was fucking wasted. Within two steps in the house she dropped him harshly on the floor with a loud thud. Dib made some moaning noise but didn't even bother to get up. Their father looked up from his notes by the candlelight and shook his head sadly.  
  
Membrane didn't bother to ask Gaz to help him get Dib to bed; she had to deal with him enough already tonight. Funny, he thought, he used to send Dib to Vlad's to look after Gaz and make sure she was all right and now look at them. Gaz had to drag her brother home from the bar at least once a month during the good times, sometimes three times a week during the bad times. She didn't have to, Vlad had made a room just for Dib, but it did cost him, not much, but money was money and money was getting scarce. The only reason Vlad charged was the loss on the room for his tavern girls. Vlad to was starting to suffer the money crises as well. It was costing more and more to run his businesses around town.  
  
The old professor sighed and picked up his son from the floor where Gaz had so lovingly dropped him. In the faint candle light Membrane saw that his son had a fresh sling around his arm. His face saddened, it seemed like Dib had been on the edge lately, being reckless and seeming not to care if he lived or died. He took risks that any sane man would have never been stupid enough to take, but that was Dib. He never was very sane . After a few attempts, Membrane finally got his son in the bed. The doctor opened nightstand by his son's bed and produced three tiny jars and a needle. It was sad that he always had to keep them so handy by his son's bed. After injecting a mild painkiller and a neat medicine he had learned and perfected from his years with the Indians to help the injury heal faster. He just hoped that Dib wasn't going to do anything to stupid for the next few weeks to give the broken arm time to heal. After he was done he blew out his candle and went to bed, there was much work to be node tomorrow and he needed to wake up early.  
  
The sound of banging metal and the smell of burning bacon woke Dib from his sleep. The few rays of sun that peeked behind the black tattered curtains hurt his eyes and his head. Despite the familiar pains of the hang over he looked around and wondered where he was. It took him a few moments, he was still a little dazed, but he was home. Reluctantly he got up from his bed and headed down stairs for breakfast. Gaz was cooking again...this wasn't going to be pleasant but his growling tummy didn't care.  
  
He was greeted with an angry glare from his sister who hung over the hot stove. Stifling a nasty remark that would have probably gotten him killed Dib pulled up a chair at the kitchen table and rubbed his head. His father emerged from the basement covered in soot and smelling of grease and joined him. Dib tried to read his face, but his dirty brown work jacket covered the lower half of his face and his eyes hid behind dark goggles.  
  
People who didn't live in the town would have thought the man was a nutcase by just looking at him. His clothes were always dirty with his work, his face always covered in soot. He usually wore a long brown jacket to his calves and black working boots to cover the rest of his lower half. Over that he had an apron with various pockets to hold his strange tools of his own design. People that knew him respected him for his genius. He had invented lots of strange things to make life just a bit more bearable in this hell-hole.  
  
"What are you working on down there now?" Gaz asked with mild interest. She only asked questions like these when Dib would come home drunk the night before. Talking about a subject other then her brothers nasty habit somehow would make it seem that nothing had happened the pervious night. Not so much for herself but for her father.  
  
"Indoor pluming! We can pump water into our house and the waste out. So much better then using an outhouse or getting water from the tower. That water is disgusting. You know what they do in there? Sometimes someone will buy one of Vlad's girls for the night and go do business in there. Body filth and...oh god I don't want to think about all those nasties swimming in our drinking water." The professor shivered a bit. He was always a bit dramatic. He was talking a bit much as well, probably for the same reason as Gaz. It was true though, he hated the tower's water. He always boiled the water before drinking it and left them in jars down in the basement for the family. Dib used to smile as he watched his father cringe when he drank the unpurified water, that was till one day he pulled out a little nappy black hair from his mouth after drinking some. Ever since then, he always drank the water his father stocked in the basement.  
  
Gaz set two plates of black bacon and dry eggs. She liked her food...well done. Dib looked at her for his plate, but only got a nasty look. He sighed and went to cook his own meal.  
  
"Oh, almost forgot." The professor said suddenly and pulled out something that looked like a gun from his apron pocket. Something about it was strange, there was no cock to pull back and the trigger had a little bar attached to the handle. "It's a water pistol. Shoots out water instead of bullets. Thought it might be useful against another Irken raid. I came up with the idea for it when I was designing the pumps for the indoor plumbing. Make sure you fill it before your going to use it."  
  
Dib walked away from his bacon and eggs and inspected the contraption. Cute. He smiled evilly thinking of Zim squirming on the ground in pain, he wouldn't die but it was fun to watch. Dib nodded thanks to his father and pocketed the water pistol before going back to making his meal.  
  
After breakfast Dib got dressed and headed out back to the graveyard. He went there often to get advice from the dead. If he hadn't been the son of the beloved Membrane they would have thrown him in the crazy house in Green River by now. No one really believed him. That he could talk to the dead. They did note however, that Dib was able to predict Irken raids and bad weather. Usually, he liked working in the night. It was easier to communicate and there was less of a chance of being noticed by any one that happened to be passing by.  
  
His black long coat gathered dust at the bottom as he strolled along, not that it bothered him much. Everything was always covered in dust, always. His matching wide brimmed leather hat helped keep the sun from burning his head and blinding his eyes. It was a long walk, funny, the people didn't believe that one could summon the dead but they kept the graveyard as far away from town as they could carry the bodies for some superstitious reasons. They never believe in the real stuff.  
  
It was hotter then most days, the dead weren't going to like it but he had questions burning in his head since his conversation with Vlad. He needed to know of Zim was coming back. For the first time he really didn't want him to come back right now. He wasn't at his full strength, which usually didn't matter much because he was never that strong to begin with. He never knew how he managed to get on the law force. Well, not really the law force but a sort of little gang that kept the Irkens at bay. They never gave themselves a name but they got paid enough by the town, or actually Vlad, who always was looking for ways to protect his businesses.  
  
When Dib finally got to the graveyard he spotted a young women dressed in a dusty faded dress, a dress you would find one of Vlad's girls wearing on duty. She smoked a long cigarette, the smoke would leak out of her decaying neck and ribs as she smiled. "Hello Dib."  
  
"I didn't even need to summon this time. That only means that something big is coming into town." Dib mused. "Well for one, you'll finally know the truth. Now you know we've never had the privilage of talking to each other before so you know what that means." "We talked at Vlad's. That was quite a long time ago Sara. Hell, before that we used to talk in Ms. Bitters class when we were kids." "I wouldn't call that talking Dib, I called you a loser and sent the other kids to beat you up when ever you accidentally got to close. Don't try to wiggle your way out of this, I have to tell you my story weather you like it or not. Don't worry, unlike the others I find death...pleasant. I'm not going to bitch at you for the next five hours. My life or death wasn't that interesting to begin with so it shouldn't take long." The corpse's face suddenly changed from a smug grin to a sullen stare. She looked down at the ground, avoiding Dib's stare taking more drags from her cig letting the smoke dance around her from various holes in her body and dress. "It...just helps sometimes. It's kind of lonely now, just want someone to hear my story." Dib sat on the gravestone across from the corpse and let out a sigh of inpatients. Even in death there were rules that couldn't be bent unlike everything else in the area. Every time you talked to a new corpse you had to hear their story before they could tell you what you wanted. He didn't know why, neither did the corpses but that was they way it was. I wouldn't bother him so much if their wasn't a steady steam of new dead to talk to. And some of the older ones would eventually go crazy after a while.  
  
He shifted to get as comfortable as he could on a grave and rested his head on his hand with a smile. "So tell me then, how'd you die."  
  
Hmmmm. Some Hellboy inspired stuff there. Oh by the way, Vlad Taltos and all related characters belong the wonderful Steven Brust. Check him out if you ever get the chance. Invader Zim and related characters belong to Nick...I guess. 


End file.
